CHAPTER XII

A NEW MAN JOINS UP

Clif wasn’t able to discover that afternoon whether Lemuel John had been captured by the second team, for he was pretty busy until the second came over for a brief scrimmage and exceedingly busy afterwards. The substitutes opposed the Scrub to-day and Clif played left tackle all through with fair success. He tried to find an opportunity to ask Warner about Lemuel John, but Warner was in the line-up for only a few minutes and the opportunity didn’t present. Later, the matter went out of his mind until Loring brought it back that evening.

“He wasn’t on the bench with the second when they came across,” said Tom. “I guess Warner forgot it.”

“More likely he didn’t try very hard,” said Clif. “I’ll drop in on Lemuel John after study and see what happened. I don’t suppose it will matter if he learns that we’re interested in getting him out.”

“Not a bit,” said Loring. “If he turned Warner down, Clif, try to get him to come over here with you and we’ll have a talk with him. Perhaps, between the three of us, we can get him to change his mind.”

Clif found Lemuel John alone at a little after nine. He was writing a letter and Clif apologized for disturbing him. “No disturbance,” said Lemuel John. “I was just writing a letter to dad because I didn’t have anything else much to do. I’d a sight rather talk. I thought you’d forgotten this number, Bingham.”

“N-no,” said Clif awkwardly; “but I’ve been rather busy, what with one thing and another. Walt off for the evening?”

“Down the hall,” said Lemuel John. “He asked me along, but I didn’t care about it. I saw you play this afternoon.”

“Oh, did you? Er――were you――I mean, you weren’t playing yourself, were you?”

“Me?” Lemuel John chuckled. “No, but it’s funny you said that, because there was a fellow up here this forenoon asking me if I didn’t want to join the second team. Maybe you know him, Warner. He’s captain of the second.”

“Yes, I know him,” said Clif. “Of course you told him you did want to.”

“No.” Lemuel John shook his head. “I told him it wouldn’t be any use.”

“Well, I guess he didn’t take that for an answer,” replied Clif, smiling.

“Why, yes, he did. Why not? Shucks, I couldn’t learn football, and I told him so.”

“How do you know you couldn’t?” Clif asked.

“Walt says so. I asked him one day if he thought I could and he said no pretty emphatic.”

“Walt knows less about football than I know about――about the Gothic language! Look here, Parks, if you don’t really want to finish that letter just now, come over to East with me, won’t you? To Loring’s, I mean.”

Lemuel John consented a trifle doubtfully, wondering what was up. Tom was already on hand when they reached Loring’s room, and after a minute of rather perfunctory conversation, Loring turned his chair a trifle, so that he could more directly face Lemuel John, and asked: “You’re with us in this ‘No Defeats’ campaign, I suppose, Parks?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Good! Because you can do quite a bit for the cause, I think.”

“I can?” Lemuel John smiled incredulously.

“Yes. You see, if the team is to come through the season with a clean record it’s got to get plenty of good, hard practice as well as coaching. Well, practice is supplied, as you know, by the Scrub; Mr. Babcock’s team. And it follows that the stronger the second is the better practice it can provide for the first. So far I make myself clear, eh?”

“Yes, I see what you mean,” answered the other.

“Well, the second can do with more players, Parks. And it occurred to us that you might be just the fellow to help out.”

“Shucks, no, Deane! I wouldn’t be any good. I’ve never played a bit.”

“That wouldn’t matter. Plenty of fellows do their first football playing right here, and make good. You’re about the right build for a lineman, Parks; guard, say, or maybe tackle; and personally, as I told these chaps, I believe you could make a corking good one.”

“Shucks!” Lemuel John looked about as though he suspected the others of being in league to make fun of him. But the countenances denied it. “I don’t believe,” he went on doubtfully, “that I’ve got enough brains. I was looking at a book the other day that explained the rules of football――” he glanced apologetically at Loring――“I couldn’t make a blame thing out of them!”

“I’ll bet you couldn’t!” exclaimed Tom. “I’m supposed to know a little about the game, but I give you my word, Parks, that if I look into the rules book I get all balled up in a minute!”

“About all the average candidate brings to the field with him the first day,” continued Loring, “is a healthy body and a normal mind. The rest is provided by the coaches. I’ll swear you’ve got the first requirement, and as for the second――well, it’s no secret that lots of fellows in prep school and college who have made big names for themselves as football players would never startle the world with their intellects! I’m not likening you to them, Parks, however. I’m only trying to reassure you, you know. As a matter of fact, any fellow who can play chess as you play it needn’t trouble about not having enough brains for football. About seventy-five per cent of football is doing what you’re told, which leaves only twenty-five per cent for the exercise of your mentality. You haven’t any good reason for not playing, have you? I mean your folks aren’t down on it, for instance?”

Lemuel John grinned. “I guess they don’t know what it is,” he answered.

“Well, I don’t see, then, why you don’t go out to-morrow and report for the second.”

“Oh, shucks, I don’t know!” Lemuel John looked frowningly from one to another. “Think they’d want me?”

“Yes. In fact, I’m surprised they haven’t grabbed you long ago.”

“Why, there was something said about me playing, Deane. And then just to-day a fellow named Warner came to see me. I was telling Bingham about it upstairs a while back. Warner’s captain of the second. He said he’d like me to come out and try for the team, but I told him I didn’t think I’d better.”

“What did he say then?” asked Clif.

“Said maybe I knew best, or something like that.”

“The silly coot!” commented Clif disgustedly. “I told him――” Then he caught a cautioning look from Loring and stopped.

“I think you’d enjoy playing football, Parks,” said Loring. “Of course it’s hard work, but it’s fun, too. Maybe you’re wondering how I know, since I’ve never tried it. I do know, though; and Clif and Tom will tell you the same thing.”

“Oh, I guess I’d like it,” said Lemuel John. “I mean if I could really play the game. I’d sort of hate to go out on that field and make a fool of myself, though.”

“Not a chance of it,” said Clif. “Just remember that every one of us has been through the same thing, Parks. You’ll feel awkward at first, maybe, but it won’t take you more than two or three days to get onto the ropes.”

“Think so? Well, I don’t know. I can be pretty dumb sometimes, Bingham.”

“At that, you’ll have nothing on the rest of ’em,” Tom chuckled. “There’s a chap on the Scrub named Kinsey――”

“Never mind the scandal, Tom,” said Loring. “There’s still another thing, Parks, that I haven’t mentioned. That’s duty. Duty enters into it, too, you know. A fellow who can help the school by playing football or baseball or any other game mustn’t pay too much attention to his own wishes. If the school needs his services that ought to be sufficient. Don’t you agree with me?”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean I suppose you’re right, Deane. I never thought about that. You see, fellows, all this is sort of new to me. I’m a tenderfoot here. This kind of a school’s considerably different from the school at home. There’s a lot of things I ain’t onto yet. But I guess you know what you’re talking about, all right.”

“The gentleman flatters you, Loring,” said Tom.

“I wasn’t meaning to flatter him,” began Lemuel John earnestly. Then he caught the smile on Clif’s face and chuckled. “I ain’t onto him yet, either,” he said, nodding toward Tom. “He’s a kind of a funny feller, ain’t――isn’t he?”

“He’s a plain nut,” laughed Clif. “Pay no attention to him, Parks. No one else does.”

“Now I guess you’re the one that’s stringing me. Well, I’m going to think over what you said, Deane.” He began to assemble his long legs preparatory to arising, but Loring motioned him back.

“Don’t be in a hurry, Parks. It’s still early. Besides, I’d rather have you decide this business before you go. I might as well tell you――” and here Loring flashed that compelling smile of his――“that I’ve made up my mind you’re going to play. That means that if you say no now you’ll just have to unsay it later, for I’m a frightfully persistent fellow, Parks, and I’m likely to make life mighty unpleasant for you till you let me have my way.”

“Shucks!” Lemuel John laughed amusedly. “I guess if it come――came to a show-down between us two I’d win pretty easy for stubbornness. But, gosh, if you want me to play as bad as you say, why, I’ll do it. Guess I’d have decided to do it, anyway. I wish you’d tell me, though, what the――the proceedings are. Do I get me one of those suits they wear first-off, or do I wait and see will it be needed?”

“You wear your togs when you report,” said Loring; “but if I were you I wouldn’t spend any money just yet. You’ve got some old togs, haven’t you, Tom?”

“Yes, I’ve got some spare parts,” answered Tom dubiously, appraising Lemuel John’s frame; “but maybe they won’t fit.”

“I can help out, too,” said Clif. “Tom and I will bring the things down to you on our way to breakfast in the morning. Shoes, though――”

“Yes, I guess I’ll have to buy those,” said Lemuel John, grinning. “I wear a nine.”

“A nine! Sacred Ibis of the River Nile, Parks! If I ever see you coming my way there’ll be a half back missing from the first!” And Tom shook his head awedly.

“I guess I ain’t likely to trouble you fellows any,” said the big chap. “Not this year, anyway. I guess I’ll be going now. I’ve got a letter half written to my father and I’d like to tell him about this football business. It might interest him some. He don’t have much to interest him where he is.”

“Why,” asked Loring solicitously, “where is your father, Parks?”

“New York City. It’s kind of dull down there for an active man like dad. Good night.”

“Good night. Come again without being shanghaied. And don’t forget that game of chess you promised. How about――let’s see――how about Wednesday night?”

“Well, I don’t know,” drawled Lemuel John. “Maybe I won’t be able to by then. But if I am I’ll sure drop around.”

“Think he will make the second?” asked Clif when the door had closed behind the visitor.

“I certainly do,” answered Loring. “Don’t you, Tom?”

“Well,” said Tom haltingly, “I don’t ... know!”

But Lemuel John did make it. He lounged over to the second team gridiron the next afternoon attired――rather abruptly, as a matter of truth――in some old togs belonging to Tom and Clif and told George Warner that he had changed his mind and guessed he’d see could he be a football player. George managed to conceal his delight remarkably. Indeed, an observer might almost have suspected that the captain was bored rather than thrilled! However, he conducted Lemuel John over to Coach Babcock and explained, and “Cocky,” after a swift survey of the new candidate, smiled and asked: “Well, how’d we happen to miss you before, Parks?” Lemuel John was an object of some amusement to the other members of the Scrub squad, but they were decent enough not to let him suspect it, and later, when the rookie had his initial experience of handling a football, he was the first to chuckle at his awkwardness. Before preliminary practice was over Lemuel John had exactly twenty-eight new friends, for no one, from “Cocky” down to the least of the substitutes, could resist his good nature and patience under trying circumstances. Mr. Babcock didn’t excuse Lemuel John from any of the pleasant diversions, but made him take his place in line with the more experienced and muddle his way through. The spectacle of the big fellow attempting his first tackle of the dummy was amusing enough, in all faith, and even “Cocky” had to join his laughter with that of the others; but when, still later, Lemuel John was instructed to take his place with the catchers and let a high spiral punt settle into his arms the result was ludicrous. Lemuel John’s mouth fell open as he gazed anxiously at the descending ball and he became tense in every muscle. Then, almost at the last instant, he discovered that he was several paces away from the probable landing place of the pigskin and came to life wildly. He leaped forward and to the left and shot two great, long arms skyward. I suspect, too, that he closed his eyes, since for at least a second after the ball had struck the sod two yards behind him he still remained there as though supplicating the gods!

More than once that afternoon Lemuel John earnestly regretted his decision. Even though he knew that his inept efforts were funny, and though he laughed at them, sometimes a bit ruefully, himself, no one likes to be the sole and continual object of amusement, and Lemuel John’s cheeks reddened several times under their tan. But it ended finally and he accompanied the others over to the first team field and sat on the bench in frowning concentration while the first trampled on the Scrub to the tune of 13 to 0. Loring Deane had predicted the position of guard or tackle for him, and Lemuel John focused his observation on those positions. It seemed to him when the first scrimmage period was over that the four fellows playing them on the second were wrong in allowing the opposing players to thrust them aside as they did. Of course, he reflected, he didn’t know much about the fine points of the game yet, but it stood to reason, didn’t it, that if the Scrub linemen would only stop those other fellows from going ahead when they had the ball the other fellows wouldn’t score like they had. Maybe, though, there were rules in that book he had looked at which said the defenders mustn’t do that. He didn’t know about that yet and he meant to find out. To that end he edged along the bench and addressed a youngster who, like himself, had not yet seen service. In the course of the next five minutes he received more information on the subject of the duties of linemen, both on attack and defense, than he could have derived from an hour’s perusal of the rules book. And, to his surprise, it came out that the reason Sawyer and Burns and Warner and Dawson didn’t stop the opponents from getting past them was that they couldn’t help themselves! Lemuel John, considered that for a long moment. Then he drawled: “Well, I don’t know, stranger, but it seems to me like I’d make a heap more effort than those fellows if I was doing it. Looks to me like they quit too easy!”